Interview With the Goblin King
by Israfel
Summary: The Goblin King visits a modern-day fanfic writer to have the story of his life chronicled before his demise. This not fact or fiction - it's history.
1. There's a Goblin King in my bedroom!

interview.html **Interview With the Goblin King******

**Written by: Israfel******

It never starts out like you plan it. When you consciously wish the Goblin King to take your sibling away because they have annoyed you incessantly or they are insulting and hitting you, he never takes them away. Ah, no, that is not his way. Instead he waits for you to not really mean it, and then spirits your sibling away so that you may go through his strenuous tortures to search for them. So far there has been only one documented success in the art of solving the Labyrinth, by a teenage girl named Sarah Williams. However, there have been many failures in the process of this. 

I'm sure you are wondering now why I am writing this, and what it has to do with the topic of this document. You could skip past these few paragraphs and go straight on to the story if you wish, it doesn't really matter either way if you read them or not. 

Of course, since I had three reports due for school this same week (two of which were speeches, which the teachers made me do on purpose since they know I hate getting up in front of people) and I am a major procrastinator, it should be obvious that I just started them now. And guess what? The internet wasn't working, so here I was with precisely two projects due the next day and no material on hand. 

In order to calm my already wrecked nerves I decide to plop down in front of the TV and watch some anime. After an hour of Gundam Wing and about five minutes of DBZ, my brother comes in to the room. Now for those who don't know my brother the description of him is evil. Pure evil. Satan's spawn, although that would be make me Satan's spawn also since we share the same blood...hmm, scratch that. Anyway, he insulted the show and myself, so after ten minutes of verbal fighting I went to my room to write a story while calling out for the Goblin King to take my blasted brother far away. No such luck. And with my luck continuing as such, of course I couldn't think of any good ideas for fanfiction. 

I growled at my computer. Unlike those lucky bastards I read about all the time, I unfortunately don't have the internet in my room so I couldn't even check to see if it was still working and/or read some stories at fanfiction.net. So imagine my surprise when I start spinning around in my chair and see a flash of blonde hair in the mirror behind me. I stop and go up to the reflective surface, look cautiously into it, and see...my own face. Just as I start to feel some relief come to me, our resident Goblin King's face pops up in my mirror. 

I bravely stood my ground and...ah, who am I kidding? I gaped at him and let out the occasional choked off noise as I stared at this fictional character who i thought did not exist. Closing my eyes tightly, I trembled while telling myself it was only my overactive imagination making this image appear. Only my overactive imagination. I was plenty scared by then, even though I have had some previous experience with astral projections or ghosts or whatever they were that I had encountered in the hours between my bedtime and dawn. After I had gathered up enough courage I finally opened my eyes, seeing nothing but my own reflection in front of me. Not content with with the image of him gone, for I could still feel the presence of someone in this room besides me, I bolted out of there to watch The Simpsons in the safety of the family room. 

After several hours in the safety of the family room, where anyone could enter, I decided to finally contemplate what had happened in my room. I wasn't afraid, mind you, I was just being cautious. Obviously what I had seen wasn't Jareth; I was far too cynical to believe in that. So my mind went to the other possibilities that my brain would allow. It could be that I was suffering the postponed effects of stress from the end-of-year heap of work they pile on students to see how long it takes before they crack under the pressure. Another choice I could say was my current fixation on Labyrinth was so unhealthy that I was starting to visual Jareth in my room. Or it could have possibly been my subconscious saying that I had a thing for David Bowie, and while I do think he can be a hottie half the time, he's not my type, so that was out of the equation. 

I got up off the carpet, deciding to stop playing the coward and just go back in there if I wasn't afraid. Besides, it was only my overactive mind playing tricks on me. Nonetheless, once I opened and closed the door to my room I took two broad steps and yanked the chain to the fan. Darkness was banished to the corners as light flooded all over. I took the opportunity of the small amount of peace to sit on the cushioned chair at my computer and play idly with pictures by opening and closing them as fast as I could until Star Trek would start. 

I tossed a look over to my bed, mainly the stuffed animals on it. My rag doll, my bunny rabbit, my gorilla, my owl...wait a minute. Back up there. Owl? I had no owl as a stuffed animal. The longer I stared at it, the more real it seemed. Glancing at the door, I considered asking my mother if she had bought it for me, but decided against it. However, when I looked back at my bed, the stuffed animal was no longer there. Standing in front of my bed was a tall man with an 80's rock star light blonde hair, mismatched eyes, black armor, and leggings. His arms were crossed in an arrogant manner, and an evil looking smirk on his face. 

Jareth. 

The Goblin King. 

Whatever name you call him by, he was in my house. I didn't even believe in him, and he was in my house. I closed my eyes, trying the trick from earlier to make him disappear, but when I opened my eyes he was still there. I took a sharp breath in, and stood my ground. 

Strangely enough, my first thought was Why is David Bowie in my house? Then the panic set in. "Oh God, oh God, oh God..." I muttered. 

After looking me over in that way of his, that 'is she worthy' way, he finally addressed me. "I'm glad you think of me so highly, but we both know I'm not God." Oh, how cruel he was! He couldn't have known of my lack of faith in any particular deity, but he had unconsciously managed to strike a hidden blow against me. 

"Who...what do you want? Don't kill me, I don't want to die!" I know it was pathetic, but it was all I could think of to say at the moment. A strange man was in my house, standing in the middle of my room in LEGGINGS for crying out loud, and I was supposed to act calm?! 

"I believe," he drawled lazily, moving across the room to stand near me, "that you know who I am, dear girl." He moved with a type of feline grace, with his very presence being the opposite of my little world. Especially in my bedroom he cut an impressive figure, contrasting greatly to the mess on the desks and dressers. When I didn't answer him, a frown grew on his face. "I am the Goblin King." 

I raised my eyebrows skeptically, the most impertinent gesture I could manage at the time. If I had been able to, I would have only raised a single eyebrow to make the effect seem much more dramatic. Unfortunately my muscles don't work that way, so I was stuck with the double eyebrow raise. "The Goblin King? I've...heard of you." 

He knew I didn't believe him, but that didn't matter. I was afraid, so he had some power over me. With a flick of his wrist, a crystal ball appeared on the tips of his fingers. "I've brought you a gift," he said in a half teasing tone, getting up from his-no, my- chair and standing next to me. 

"Wh-What is it?" I replied, repeating the fateful words of Sarah so many years ago. 

"A crystal." He rolled is from the face to the palm of his hand with the mere wave of his hand while he spoke to me, his eyes never leaving mine. "Nothing more. But if you turn it this way, it will show you your dreams." 

Oh, dirty pool! By now I was starting to believe that this man was the Goblin King, that he could really offer me the dreams that I seeked at every turn. It wasn't fair! "You want something," I stated warily, swallowing the lump in my throat. 

"You are to write my life story. I am offering you your dreams for this request from the King of the Goblins, I am being very generous on my part." 

"And if I refuse?" I was a cheeky little bugger for a scared girl... 

"It is quite possible that I will kill you." 

"Ah. Well, when you put it that way, why the hell not? An audience with the Goblin King is a rare experience, eh heh... Please, your majesty, any time you are ready." 

I had never been so scared in my life. But before we continue on, dear reader, I must warn you that this is not some fanfic that I have made up. No, this is the truth. It is history. If you cannot handle the truth, then please quit reading this. 

My hands hovered above the keyboard, and typed to the rhythm of his words. This was the most important thing I had ever done...my interview with the Goblin King...   
  
  



	2. So, why aren't you an owl anymore?

Interview With the Goblin King  
  
Written by: Israfel  
  
  
  
In a rather sorry state of affairs, I had managed to be wrangled into writing a biography for the most powerful man that I am aware of. From the point of view of another, years later, it would be an amusing story to tell my fellow Labyrinth fans in fanfic form. Despite some far out experiences I have been versed upon, I have remained a firm believer in not exposing myself to those who under the right (or wrong) circumstances could either destroy my life utterly by ridiculing me or by sending my to some sort of asylum for the insane. If you believe anything, believe I am not insane. This is all true.  
  
Normally when a man who wears more make-up than you could ever possibly hope to own in a lifetime threatens your life while playing with a crystal ball, you would simply raise an eyebrow and shuffle away. That wasn't exactly applicable in this scenario. The man in question was the Goblin King, and not being particularly fond of jumping off the mortal coil at this point in time I felt it under my best interests to do what he said. And currently he wanted me to write his life story.  
  
Lovely. Just lovely. You think your life is tough? Try being only a few feet away from salvation yet not being able to move without a dictator with hair from two decades ago shoving electricity up your ass.  
  
"So, uh, how are we supposed to do this? Do I ask questions or something? Because this whole silence thing really isn't working out when I'm supposed to be typing this up."  
  
Of course, even with the thoughts of pain and torture running rampant throughout my brain I couldn't help being a sarcastic little snot.  
  
He turned to frown at me. "I am preparing. If you would remain silent for one moment then I could begin."  
  
"Well excuse me for breathing," I muttered to myself. "Telepathy isn't exactly my strong suit." I managed to maintain the asked for silence... for about five seconds. "Maybe if I asked question it would help start things." He waved his hand toward me as if giving me permission to go ahead. Yippy skippy. You could practically feel the love in the room.  
  
"What's the deal with the whole not being an owl anymore thing? I always gathered the impression that after Sarah-"  
  
"You are not permitted to speak her name!" he hissed at me, his mismatched eyes glittering with frozen fire at the mere mention of the girl's name who had bested him.  
  
Let me tell you something right now: You do not want the full fury of the Goblin King focused solely on you. If any of you find situations like this romantic even in the slightest, you're going to get a rude awakening if and when it happens to you. I felt the urge to shrink back due to his imposing gaze, but fought the urge and stared right back with false bravado. Whatever happened from here on in, I was not going to embarrass myself any further with cowering before his royal pain-in-the-highness. Well, not much cowering. Hey, I may be cheeky but one thing I'm not is stupid.  
  
"Fine then," I declared, throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation. "We'll call her the girl who kicked your ass for continuity purposes. Is that good enough for you, your majesty?"  
  
"You're treading the envelope very thinly, child. I suggest you take what little dignity you have left and finish your job which, to my knowledge, doesn't include snide jabs at royal personages who have powers beyond your imagination."  
  
I could imagine pretty well, and I didn't particularly like what was up in my head. It involved whips and chains, and not in the good way, combined with a certain gag-inducing Bog of Eternal Stench which was not on my priority list for a fun evening. I chewed my bottom lip while trying to figure out how to rephrase that question without insulting him, however humorous or fear-abating my intentions would be.  
  
"I had always gathered that after she had beaten you at your own game you either had to die or become the owl to escape."  
  
"And where did you come up with this startling theory?"  
  
It was my turn to make a face, finally having a chance to expand on a pet theory of mine. "Because the Labyrinth and all surrounding areas was a world of Sarah's imagination. Everything that existed - everything that was, is, and could be - could be seen on the shelves and tabletops of her room tucked into the corners or out in full display."  
  
"Your point being?"  
  
I licked my lips, tossing a cautious glance at Jareth as I continued. "As I said, it was a world inside her mind. Of all the things that were in her room, not anywhere did I see anything that resembled you. You were an outside influence. So when she directly called you forth, you gave her her wish. It didn't exactly have the consequences she desired."  
  
"I wasn't aware this was a summary of my exploits."  
  
"Just give me a minute, I have a point coming. That meant when she fought her childish impulses to give into your sensuous offers-" Ignore the eyebrow raising, ignore the eyebrow raising... " -the world she had created in her head was dashed to pieces and a new one was built up; One with walls which you couldn't get into. So it was either a choice of staying and dying, or fleeing to our Earth in the only form accessible to you on our plane. Am I warm?"  
  
"Even if you were, why should I tell you? All good things come to those who wait. Except, perhaps, in your case," he mused.  
  
"Waiting?" I asked.  
  
"Good things," he answered.  
  
"So what is it?" I turned to look at him over my shoulder, my face unreadable from his vantage point I looked over my glasses at his countenance. "What's my purpose? You're a king, you have subjects out there who are more than willing to be scribes to you. Lose a bet? Needed a lark? Or is it something more sinister? Perhaps I'm right in my assumption after all. Maybe it's that you need me in order to help you restore your crumpled kingdom?"  
  
He shifted his body away from me ever so slightly. I picked up on this, and allowed the left corner of my lip to raise just enough for me to smirk. "That's it, isn't it? You need me. You have no power over me, and therein lies the problem."  
  
"Excellent summation, my dear. Now since you appear to be so intuitive, tell me how you're going to fix this little problem."  
  
As he had spoken he had somehow managed to maneuver his way behind my chair, leaning in close to almost whisper those words in my ear. I gave an involuntary shudder, staring rather blithely into the computer screen where I could just make out our reflections. I opened my mouth to answer and found nothing came to mind. I closed it quickly, realizing that I wasn't anywhere closer finding an answer than he was.  
  
It was his turn to offer me a smirk, though unlike mine his wasn't satisfied. "And therein lies the problem." 


	3. Blood stains are so hard to get out

Interview With the Goblin King  
  
Written by: Israfel  
When a human being makes a rather outlandish guess based on half formed theories they had been throwing around their mind and has it confirmed true by the source, that person will usually require a moment to collect themselves before they can move on. Some require internal reflection, while others need to make sarcastic comments. Still others end up stammering half formed replies, because that is what they believe the situation calls for, that try to be glib but fail utterly. I happen to be one of the sad few who falls into the third category. Of course, that's right after I remember how to breathe.  
  
A good thing to remember if this ever happens to you is chanting also helps in this case. Internal chanting, that is. Nothing sets people off to your growing mental issues more than muttered repetition of a phrase to keep your breathing in rhythm.  
  
Shifting my body closer to the computer and hunching my shoulder in some primitive motion of shielding myself, I found myself staring at my hands still hovering over the keyboard. Balling them up into fists, I could feel my nails digging into the soft skin of my palms. Not being fond of clichés, I stopped myself before they dug in too deep and I started getting those half crescent marks that bled. Not that they could really do that. My nails are too flexible for clichés.  
  
"Um. Oh, shit," I stammered. "Well, nice talking to you. I'll tell you if I think of anything. Bye!" And with that, I got jumped out of my chair and scurried to the door. I didn't get too far before my face collided with a male chest.  
  
"By dose!" I cried out. Translation: My nose! I cupped my hands around the hurting piece of my face, glaring up at the offending object that had caused this pain. "I dink you broge by dose!"  
  
"Stop your childish whining this instant," his chilly accented voice spoke, making its way over my whimpering. "It would have taken a run in with an object considerably denser than myself to harm your nose in such a way."  
  
Gently probing the soft tissue, I ignored him. I ended up placing the palm of my hand up against my nostrils, and pulled it away after a few seconds to check for blood. Not satisfied, I placed it in the same position again and blew hard. When I checked again, I saw nothing resembling blood. Damn. I hate it when other people are right, especially when they are annoying men whose people consist of drooling, infantile monsters that appear to have no purpose other than stealing babies.  
  
But just because he was right didn't mean it hurt any less. I made a face at him, breathing in sharply as I felt the slight tinge of pain still there. Rubbing my nose while inwardly cursing the very existence of a certain blonde, I made my way back over to my chair and collapsed into it. I sighed while rubbing the bridge of my nose. Ouch. Note to self: Do not do dramatic gestures while in pain.  
  
"...I'm not a miracle worker."  
  
"That's quite apparent." Ooh, sarcasm. There's a new one for you, goblin- boy.  
  
"I can't help you unless you help me."  
  
"Now, now, that's not in the rules."  
  
"Bugger the rules! You're essentially fucked five ways from Sunday here, and unless you are willing to get onboard with my ideas then it looks like you'll be sitting here for a long time. And unlike in your land, here the rules are a tad bit different. If you so much as try anything on me, the police will be here so fast that it'll have your over-teased head spinning."  
  
""Well then, you'll surely have a grand time explaining to them where your family has disappeared to."  
  
"Excuse me?" I whispered suspiciously.  
  
"As of now, your entire family has taken up residence in one of my more...secure dungeons."  
  
"The oubliettes!" I hissed.  
  
"Precisely.  
  
"Good." When in doubt, bluff. Bluff like your life depends on it. Which in this case, it did. "They were pissing me off lately. This will make things far easier on myself."  
  
"Oh really? I'm sure they will be quite glad to know that. Go ahead, oblige yourself with a nice long look around. You won't find them here."  
  
"I think will."  
  
Barreling out of my room before he could say another word, I ran into the living room calling out my parents names all the while. No response. While fear welled up inside me and made my chest tight, I tried to remember the breathing exercises I had learned in order to keep myself calm. Unfortunately, since I don't handle well under crisis situations or pretty much any situation known to man, I panicked.  
  
"Mom!" I called out again. "Dad!"  
  
I grit my teeth as I slammed my way out of the house, praying that they decided to do some stargazing for once or just went to the store. Luck was not on my side. Not inside, not outside. Their cars were still there. That's when I just stopped moving. I was on my home turf, so this allowed me a bit of advantage. He wasn't following me while I made my futile rounds, so it allowed me a few moments to formulate a plan of action for once I got back inside.  
  
And then I smiled.  
  
I slowly made my way back inside, pushing the door so it made a small "snick" sound as it closed. Making my way over to the kitchen I stood in front of the sink and turned the water pressure on full blast while my left hands gripped the edge of the counter and my right hand hovered somewhere just above the water flow.  
  
"Given up already? I must say I am disappointed." He was right behind me. I could hear him. Moving my right hand down slightly I gripped the glass bottle that had been soaking and spun around, aiming carefully as I swung the heavy bottle at his head.  
  
Unfortunately, he his reflexes were faster than I expected. As the glass was about to make a rather painful connection, his hand somehow maneuvered itself around my makeshift weapon and used the full force of my attack to throw me off to the side where I stood in shock. Somehow I managed to keep a hold of the bottle.  
  
Hey, I never said it was a good plan.  
  
"Isn't this a delicious little scenario?"  
  
I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Every little thought, every venomous bit of hatred you aimed at them, every torturous and traitorous act you stored in that dark mind of yours hoping would never see the light of day is having itself realized upon those of your blood. Most fitting as that will be all that's left of them when I'm through."  
  
I froze in place. "No."  
  
"Oh, yes," he responded with a silky tone as he jerked the bottle out of my hands, throwing it at the wall behind me. I think I screamed and jumped at least a foot off the ground at the sound of the glass shattering. Cornering me up against the cabinet, I leaned back fearfully as his cruel visage rested a full three inches away from mine. "After all, blood stains are so hard to get out."  
  
"You're crazy. Insane. Psychotic!" I hissed at him.  
  
"And you are redundant." The energy between us was thick with loathing as we glared. "Three hours."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I'm giving you three hours to make your final decision. If not, your kin will never see the light of day again."  
  
"All aboard the guilt train, eh?"  
  
He moved to make his exit. However, before he did he stopped before the window and turned around with a crystal ball spinning from finger to finger. "One last word of advice: Don't even try calling your pathetic law enforcement officers. The scene at hand when they arrive will more than convince them of your apparent guilt."  
  
And with that, the ball was tossed up and the air filled with a bright light. Covering my eyes quickly, I removed my arm from it's protective position and opened my eyes after a few moments. Scanning the current state of the room while the spots in front of my eyes faded, I had to wince. The house was in shambles. Blood on the walls, blood on me, and stuff I couldn't discern and really didn't want to think about on the floor. I waited about thirty seconds after that to take my parting shot at the missing Goblin King.  
  
"Drama queen!" I shouted.  
  
For someone who prided themselves on their intelligence, I seemed to be lacking in it when dealing with a certain royal. A good rule of thumb was to never piss off the Goblin King; Somehow I had managed to skip over that rule with reckless abandon. Looking around at the mess I had caused by not adhering to said rule, I sighed. I was definitely in deep. I had forgotten that first and foremost, Jareth was not the cuddly bunny fanfic authors make him out to be; He was a dangerous and ruthless leader who played the part of diplomat only when it served to further his goals.  
  
"Fuck," I muttered as I cleared my way through to the laundry room to grab a broom and some bleach. 


End file.
